


If You're Happy (And You Know It)

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-28
Updated: 2009-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-02 19:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is happy.  Spencer is suspicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You're Happy (And You Know It)

Ryan is doing it again.

 

Spencer watches from across the room, curious and a little wary. It’s not often that he can’t read Ryan, can’t figure out what’s happening in that weird little emo head of his, but this…this is one of those times.

 

Spencer doesn’t like it.

 

It makes him feel like an asshole, kinda, because—well. 

 

Ryan is _happy._

 

And, okay, that’s obviously a good thing. Spencer isn’t wishing he was, like, _unhappy._ It’s just—

 

It’s just that he has no idea _why _Ryan is happy, and he isn’t following any of the normal patterns that would help Spencer figure it out, like how when he’s happy because he’s met someone new and fascinating, he gets all dreamy-eyed and quietly smiley and introspective; or when he’s just gotten laid he gets all mellow and does that hilarious thing with the ends of his hair, which totally makes him look like a teenage girl; or when he’s been writing and it’s going well, he sort of beams beatifically at everyone a lot and laughs at all of Brendon’s stupid jokes.

 

This is nothing like that.

 

This isn’t even like drunk-happy Ryan, who gets relaxed and loose-limbed to the point where his arms and legs seem to be moving around independently from the rest of his body; or like stoned-happy Ryan, who grins dopily at the carpet a lot and makes a higher-than-usual number of “that’s what she said” jokes.

 

This is an entirely new variety of happy Ryan. One that hums quietly and tunelessly under his breath while he tries to cook dinner—which, frankly, is alarming enough all by itself, Ryan _cooking dinner, _like, _on purpose—_and keeps flicking these smiling, secretive glances in Spencer’s direction, and maybe that’s what’s driving Spencer crazier than anything else.

 

Ryan is clearly under the impression that Spencer totally gets it, whatever it is. Like, it obviously has not even occurred to him that Spencer could possibly fail, after all these years, to be able to figure out the fun and share the secret.

 

And Spencer _is _failing.

 

Brendon and Jon are involved in what looks like a truly epic wrestling match in the middle of the room, which may or may not have originally started as a battle to gain control of the remote, but Spencer doesn’t think either of them actually remember that part now. He thinks this largely because he has himself had the remote for the last fifteen minutes, and Jon and Brendon have yet to even notice that Jon’s Animal Planet and Brendon’s Cartoon Network have both been replaced by an all-day Hell’s Kitchen marathon Spencer has no intention of relinquishing.

 

Ryan sends Spencer another quiet smile, eyes bright and amused, and Spencer loses his patience.

 

He skirts the wrestling match on his way across the room, narrowly avoiding getting clotheslined across the kneecaps by Brendon’s flailing, outflung leg, and makes his way into the kitchen.

 

“Okay, I suck,” he says bluntly. “I’ve been trying and trying, but I’m lost. You’re gonna have to tell me.”

 

Ryan stares at him in consternation for a second. “Tell you what?”

 

Spencer huffs. “What the joke is! What you’re so happy about! Why you’re in here _humming, _and _cooking, _and _smiling _and shit!”

 

Ryan blinks.

 

Spencer crosses his arms and cocks a hip, impatient. “Well?”

 

Very carefully, Ryan sets down the spatula he’s holding, and turns the flame off under—um. Spencer thinks it might be alfredo sauce. Or. Gravy? It’s hard to say. Then he leans forward, his eyes big and conspiratorial.

 

Spencer leans forward, too. “Well?” he says again, quieter this time.

 

“Well,” Ryan says slowly. “You’re an _idiot, _that’s what.” 

 

And then he hauls off and punches Spencer in the arm.

 

Spencer stands still for a second, stunned, and then belatedly smacks Ryan’s hand away. “Hey! What the fuck?”

 

“Sometimes people are just _happy, _fuckface. You don’t have to act like it’s a sign of the fucking apocalypse.”

 

“Yeah, but—“ Spencer waves a vague hand, frowning. “Ryan. It’s _you._”

 

“Hey!” Ryan glowers. “I’m happy a lot! I’m a happy guy, okay?”

 

In the living room, the wrestling match comes to an abrupt halt as Brendon and Jon both stop dead in their tracks and turn to stare at Ryan. There is a short moment of silence.

 

Brendon, Jon, and Spencer all burst into laughter.

 

Ryan’s expression wavers between indignation and reluctant amusement for several seconds before he manages to subdue it back into a somewhat neutral mask. “You guys are dicks.”

 

In conciliation, and also to ensure that at least part of it will be edible, Spencer ends up helping Ryan with the rest of dinner. Brendon and Jon even come in to help for awhile, although they end up absconding with the remote as soon as Jon figures out Spencer has it, and the wrestling match resumes almost immediately on the living room floor.

  
This time, when Ryan turns to exchanged amused, _happy _glances with Spencer, Spencer knows his eyes are smiling back.

 

Maybe that really is all it is. It’s kind of weird, to think of Ryan just being generically happy like that, and even weirder to think of Spencer not even recognizing what that looks like—on his best friend in the world, no less—but there really doesn’t seem to be any more to it than that, and hey. Spencer’s certainly not going to complain about a happy Ryan.

 

But.

 

“I know that look,” Brendon whispers in a quiet undertone to Spencer, when they’re shoulder-to-shoulder over the stove, loading up their plates. He’s nodding his head in Ryan’s direction, and smiling a little, himself.

 

Spencer can’t quite help the way his eyebrow arches, his head tilting in a little closer to Brendon’s.

 

Brendon beams quietly at the alfredo…gravy…thing. “He’s got a crush.”

 

Spencer frowns, glancing contemplatively at Ryan from under his hair. Ryan’s crushes usually just make him hyper-intellectual and eager to impress, throwing around a lot of big words and deep thoughts. “I don’t think so.”

 

Brendon nudges him, and his smile that time is for Spencer—small, and maybe even slightly wistful, but genuine all the same. “I know you’re usually the expert,” he says. “But trust me on this one, okay?” He glances up at Ryan again, his eyes soft and fond. “I remember.”

 

Spencer bites his lip, following Brendon’s gaze to Ryan…who is humming again, and happens to be right in the middle of darting another of those warm, contented little glances—

 

At _Spencer._

 

His eyes shoot back to Brendon, wide and incredulous, and Brendon smiles at him again before turning away with his plate.

  
Spencer’s brain is temporarily out of order, so it takes Jon hip-checking him out of the way before he moves from in front of the stove, his eyes catching on Ryan again as he does.

 

Ryan hums quietly, scoops up a forkful of grey-coated noodles, and flicks another quick look at Spencer.

 

Spencer’s stomach flips over.

 

Ryan raises an eyebrow in silent question, and Spencer swallows thickly.

 

Oh. Oh, _wow._

 

He drags in a deep breath, steadies his hands on his plate, and makes his way over to the table. Sitting down next to Ryan has never felt so…fraught.

 

“Everything okay?” Ryan murmurs quietly, when Spencer spends a minute just sitting there staring at his plate.

 

Spencer nods, then manages to drag his gaze up to meet Ryan’s eyes. In spite of himself, he starts to grin.

 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, everything’s…actually kind of awesome.”

 

_Fin._

 


End file.
